The story is told such as such, I was walking through the city, a splash of color on a background of dull blues and blacks. The people I was with, we played a game only known to ourselves of shifting formation, places, ceaselessly changing status, leader and followers. I moved through it with effortless grace laughing and smiling. What isn’t told, we spent the bus ride back home in complete silence, my friends they were in a sort of rivalry for my attention, or maybe I was in a rivalry for one of theirs, it depended on the day. It is told prettily, leaving out all the harsh truths, as it is told we floated in and out of stores looking for the perfect things, in reality, cheap but nice dance shoes.

I will tell the story as it is told, and then as it was to me. You know the very beginning I have already said it. This is how it continues, we weren’t afraid of our figures going as we ate mini cupcakes, we joked, many things only known to ourselves, it was intriguing. We floated through a square privy to the secrets of life the storyteller had not found. As we floated into this small snapshot of life we floated out, leaving on a perfectly timed bus. 

What seemed to be years later the storyteller catches a glimpse of color, the cast has rotated, a taller girl, a taller boy, and only one of the two that were originally with me. We break off of the group in a complicated dance that has constantly switching partners. Leaning over a selection of cakes a secretive smile crosses my face and I turn away dancing through the crowd. The storyteller almost catches up and then falls back as the group reforms around me. 

Onstage looking into a crowd, the faces all blend into each other, there a glimpse of color, a small blonde and I. The storyteller listens to the rest of the music in a frantic dance to catch my attention, I am oblivious. Her and I dance like no one is watching and yet we know how to dance. We dance like we have known each other for longer than one can count before we existed. Someone, a guy, comes up to us in the lobby, tall, dark-haired, immediately a smile lights up both of our faces and it is like we glow from within. He catches me up in a hug, nothing too intimate, turns around and kisses the blonde girl on the lips. I smile and walk towards the merchandise booth, weaving through the crowd with a well-practiced New York ‘scuse me. The storyteller almost catches up once again until with a well-practiced eye, picks out the friends about to descend upon me. I have on my jewelry, not much, a couple of rings and a necklace. I am surrounded by them on all sides and yet as fast as they blink I am gone disappearing into the crowd. The storyteller is pulled away from the scene by friends and reluctantly turns away. 

University, the storyteller is a freshman, walking across the soothing green grass and into the dorms a splash of color enters the scene. I walk confidently towards the dorms that the storyteller is about to enter, moving as if I have already carved out my place here, that there is nothing for me to worry about. If one squinted in my trail was the guy that had joined me at the concert oh so many years past. They looked as if they had all the time in the world as if I would wait for them forever, and wait I did not. They hurry, not acting as if I would leave them behind but as if all of our time together counted. The small blonde girl follows in my wake deep in discussion with her high school boyfriend. They stand out, all of them, as if being near me made them look just a little bit brighter, brought out their muted colors so they no longer blended into the background. We become invisible to everyone as the storyteller's friends catch up. 

Later, junior year, the storyteller is heading to University, a splash of color catches the storytellers eye as I walk by. I wave to someone across the street their grey color lighting up with gold for a minute and I turn around my hair catching the light as I turn to meet a girl who dances over to kiss me, her blue turning gold. We radiate light as the others catch up with us turning and ducking into a car. Leaving for a plane that will take us to autumn. The storyteller loses sight of the car and as it drives away. 

Senior year, middle of the school year. A glimpse into the crowd reveals my light but reversed, a vortex in which an absence of color exists although in the center a pinprick of yellow light is visible. A tap on the shoulder and I turn and turn into a large blond boys arms with great happiness, the light overtaking the vortex albeit briefly. We leave together meeting up with a group pulled from random places in the crowd without a word to beckon them over. These were people I had never been seen with before and they all shone with a similar light to the one I normally had. 

Graduation, the strange group was still around me although they seemed off to the side, waiting for something. I enter sparkling almost literally and it seems I might catch something else on fire. It wasn’t me the strange group was looking for but the boy who entered next, glowing like a sun. We sauntered over to our seats communicating in a way that only we could understand, a combination of words, gestures and time. It was an intricate dance seemingly random to those outside of it a group of friends moving to sit gracefully. But the way we all sat seemed familiar to us, the outcome known. The storyteller moved to see the friends that have just arrived and lost sight of the group. 

Years later, a reunion, we talk the storyteller and I, our strange groups still around us. Both of us happy and grown-up and both of us with stories of the other growing up.

That is how the story is told to me, all magic and mystery, in reality, it is not that nice. All the petty fights a friend can get into, all the people who can hurt you all the things you had to get through to get there. The times the magic was there to help and the times that the magic wasn’t.

The cakes were a distraction that day oh so long ago, it was too much the constant chattering and political games. I should have warned you, my words are not nearly as nice as the storytellers, mine do not weave half as nice of a tale and they do so with coarse thread instead of silk. I went to go look at cakes not really seeing them but grateful for the distraction and the heavenly smell. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw light the shade of the moon, casting everyone nearby in shades of silver. I knew who it was, of course, but this is not a story about them, this is a truer retelling of another story, one about me. I reluctantly left the cakes knowing that my time perusing them was up and melted into the crowd hoping for just one more minute of peace. 

Months later, at a concert with my best friend, or at least she once was it had been a while since she had answered my texts but her grey pulled at my gold lighting her up and her grey  dulling my glow and for a minute we got along perfectly again, as we did before the blues, greys, and golds. We dance as we did then without a care in the world but with the help of our modern dance careers. Her boyfriend waited outside for us, he had not wanted to come but also wanted to come so he bought tickets last minute, bad ones. He gave me a cursory hug, she wanted us to be friends, and then promptly ignored me for her which made sense. I ducked further into the crowd hoping to lose them and all the other friends who had also come to the concert with other people. A glimpse of silver bathes people in a concentrated area and I search for the reason, a flash of silver and then my friends descend blocking my view and stealing the rest of my evening. In a moment of rebellion, I slip away for water but soon return to the people I choose to spend my time with, a myriad of greys and blues. 

University, freshman year. I strode determinedly towards the dorm door trying to get to the rooms first, all my friends trailing behind. I worry that they will disappear but they don’t, they follow me into the dorm, hurrying to catch up. I see silver walking the same way as I am lighting up a portion of the lawn like a moon. As soon as I notice the silver is bolstered by the addition of other people with the same moonlit glow. 

Junior year, end of summer. I rush towards a car taking me back to knowledge, meeting friends at the car. As I turn to wave I see silver and then blue and I turn to greet her with a kiss. The rest of the group catches up breathless teasing for the kiss and a myriad of other things. Their teasing is at first gentle and then less so as we slide into a car.  

It was a bad year, senior year, or at least it started as such. My friends were not such great friends in the end, and neither was I but, giving them my light wasn’t always so easy and they wanted it. I was at a gathering when I saw silver and just as I was about to go over to talk, a tap on my shoulder whirls me around into the arms of a person radiating gold, an old friend, and unconsciously I smile. As we head out we pick up more and more people radiating gold and the vortex around me slowly recedes and is replaced by gold, an end to the loneliness of the previous months.  

Graduation, I enter making a beeline for the group I had made friends with since the chance encounter with an old friend, they are waiting not only for me but also for the lover of dramatic entrances, and there, he sweeps in radiating gold. As we become whole we walk off to our seats the dance much more intricate much more loving much easier than with others. The silver group dances off as well their dance easier more practiced as if they had more time to know each other and understand outcomes. 

And that is the end, we chatted at our reunion finally communicating without the barrier of University. Our friends remained much the same, our respective lights only brighter for all of the years apart and our stories all the more interesting than they had once been. Each of us more interested in the other’s life then we had been the last time we talked. But, as always we didn’t talk long and each became swept up in old acquaintances and all the new stories. Maybe you will hear about the stories of the storyteller I have another time, come along it is almost time and you don’t want to be late now.